“Good afternoon Principal Umber,” a sea of chorused.
It was early afternoon and instead of history the entire 5th grade was sprawled around the cafeteria. Principal Umber stood very pleased with himself at the front of the room with several guests beside him. Once a year East City Primary hosted a career fair of sorts for the older students. It was primarily for those who had already been discovered, with representatives from across the city present to answer any questions and help steer young minds to productive careers. The younger classes visited tables and sat for talks and exhibitions from all groups, more to encourage them in their studies than to actually suggest a career. It wouldn’t do to get their hopes up for a job they weren’t born for.
“Now we have some very important guests with us today. When I say go, you’re going follow your teacher and get to meet everyone. I encourage to ask lots of questions but please don’t touch anything unless given permission.”
A hand went up in the crowd.
“Yes?” Principal Umber asked.
“Do you have a gun??” a boy asked the Legionnaire, ignoring the principal.
“Yes,” the boy bounced excitedly, “but no you can’t touch it.” The boy deflated and his teacher dropped his head resigned.
“If there are no more questions, let’s break up and get going!”
There were two representatives from the Legionnaires present, Sergeant Dogra of the Raiders and Captain Smith of the Police. Both were actually looking forward to meeting the younger kids, they were pretty excitable and watching the teachers get embarrassed was way more fun than skirting delicate questions about the morals and inner workings of the Legion to prospective 11 graders. Class 5C was meeting them first, and Smith was giddy to find the kid from earlier in the group. He was bouncing around and only his teacher’s firm grip on the back of his shirt kept him from running up to them.
“Hey kids, I’m Sergeant Dogra and this is Captain Smith.” Before he could start the usual spiel the kid’s hand went up.
“No Jared, you cannot see their guns,” the teacher said. The boy dropped his hand only to immediately wave it around again.
“No you cannot ask to see any other weapons they may or may not have.” Once again the hand went down. Halfway between raising his hand again the teacher grabbed the hand and held it down.
“Jared you can’t see or touch any weapons or tools of any kind but if you sit patiently I’m sure the nice officers can tell you some stories from over the wall.” The boy’s face lit up like as he quickly sat down with the rest of his class. The teacher looked apologetic but Smith waived him off. It was always refreshing to tell war tales to people who hadn’t heard them 4 times already.
“Alright kids do any of you know what a way station is?” Smith asked the class. A few hands went up, the kid-Jared- among them.
“Does anyone know what the mines are?” Dogra followed with. Smith shot him a warning look but really, what was the harm? More hands went up this time, likely they’d been warned by their parents about misbehaving kids and getting sent to the mines.
“Ok, a way station is a base, sort of like a little neighborhood or a big house along the main roads out of the city where Legionnaires, like myself and Smith here once upon a time, stop while on missions.”
“What does this have to do with the mines?” a girl in the back of the group asked. She hadn’t seemed very interested before but she had perked up when they started to talk about the wall.
“Excellent question Miss…?” Smith asked.
“Annie Fremont ma’am.”
“Miss Fremont. A way station is a special type of base or outpost. Along with resupplying troops outside the wall, they serve as storage facilities for goods coming to and from the mines. The largest one is the Green Valley Waystation.”
“Oooh Oooh!” Jared waved his hand around frantically. “Do you keep criminals there?”
“Yes, excellent deduction young man!” Dogra said. “Green Valley is an important stop so naturally we stop there with criminals on their way to and from working in the mines.”
“How do you keep them from escaping?” Another boy behind Jared asked.
“By using these!” Dogra exclaimed, pulling out a rifle from the bag behind him. Smith and the teacher slapped their foreheads in exasperation while the kids practically vibrated in excitement. “HOLY COW! Is that a real rifle?”
“It’s so big!”
“How fast can it shoot?”
“Can I touch it?!”
“NO Jared.”
“Yes, I know, never checked, and your teacher said no.” Dogra held out the gun so the kids could see it but high enough they couldn’t touch. “Now this baby is called Ol’Henry and only really special officers get one.”
“Is it really yours?” Annie asked. Smith tried, and failed, to hide her snickering.
“Technically no” Dogra admitted, “But! I have used on on a super important mission before.”
Annie nodded and turned to Smith, “Do you have one?” Wow kid that hurts.
Smith shook her head. “No, Police officers have no need for rifles. Only raiders use them.”
“Aren’t you both Legion?” Jared asked.
“Legionnaires,” Smith corrected, “and yes, but see here?” She pointed to her shoulderpads. “The color of our shoulderpads indicates which sub-group in the Legion we are. Mine are white which means I work on the Police force. Dogra’s are red which mean he goes outside the wall.”
“Are there other colors?” Jared asked.
“A few. White with green accents are security guards, you’ve probably seen them at the hospital or at church. Red with orange work mostly on the wall and red and white work at the government buildings.”
“Cool!”
“Did you always want to be a police officer?” Annie asked.
Smith shrugged, “In a way. Everyone who graduates the Academy starts in Red and if you serve long enough you get promoted to white and get to spend more time at home in the city. Almost everyone ends up switching once they get old enough.”
“Yeah,” Dogra chimed in, slapping a hand on Smith’s shoulder. “White just means Smith here’s old!”
“I still outrank you guppy. You wanna do laps when we get back?”
Dogra laughed and backed off while the kids got to laugh at an adult.
“Good afternoon Principal Umber,” a sea of chorused.
It was early afternoon and instead of history the entire 5th grade was sprawled around the cafeteria. Principal Umber stood very pleased with himself at the front of the room with several guests beside him. Once a year East City Primary hosted a career fair of sorts for the older students. It was primarily for those who had already been discovered, with representatives from across the city present to answer any questions and help steer young minds to productive careers. The younger classes visited tables and sat for talks and exhibitions from all groups, more to encourage them in their studies than to actually suggest a career. It wouldn’t do to get their hopes up for a job they weren’t born for.
“Now we have some very important guests with us today. When I say go, you’re going follow your teacher and get to meet everyone. I encourage to ask lots of questions but please don’t touch anything unless given permission.”
A hand went up in the crowd.
“Yes?” Principal Umber asked.
“Do you have a gun??” a boy asked the Legionnaire, ignoring the principal.
“Yes,” the boy bounced excitedly, “but no you can’t touch it.” The boy deflated and his teacher dropped his head resigned.
“If there are no more questions, let’s break up and get going!”
There were two representatives from the Legionnaires present, Sergeant Dogra of the Raiders and Captain Smith of the Police. Both were actually looking forward to meeting the younger kids, they were pretty excitable and watching the teachers get embarrassed was way more fun than skirting delicate questions about the morals and inner workings of the Legion to prospective 11 graders. Class 5C was meeting them first, and Smith was giddy to find the kid from earlier in the group. He was bouncing around and only his teacher’s firm grip on the back of his shirt kept him from running up to them.
“Hey kids, I’m Sergeant Dogra and this is Captain Smith.” Before he could start the usual spiel the kid’s hand went up.
“No Jared, you cannot see their guns,” the teacher said. The boy dropped his hand only to immediately wave it around again.
“No you cannot ask to see any other weapons they may or may not have.” Once again the hand went down. Halfway between raising his hand again the teacher grabbed the hand and held it down.
“Jared you can’t see or touch any weapons or tools of any kind but if you sit patiently I’m sure the nice officers can tell you some stories from over the wall.” The boy’s face lit up like as he quickly sat down with the rest of his class. The teacher looked apologetic but Smith waived him off. It was always refreshing to tell war tales to people who hadn’t heard them 4 times already.
“Alright kids do any of you know what a way station is?” Smith asked the class. A few hands went up, the kid-Jared- among them.
“Does anyone know what the mines are?” Dogra followed with. Smith shot him a warning look but really, what was the harm? More hands went up this time, likely they’d been warned by their parents about misbehaving kids and getting sent to the mines.
“Ok, a way station is a base, sort of like a little neighborhood or a big house along the main roads out of the city where Legionnaires, like myself and Smith here once upon a time, stop while on missions.”
“What does this have to do with the mines?” a girl in the back of the group asked. She hadn’t seemed very interested before but she had perked up when they started to talk about the wall.
“Excellent question Miss…?” Smith asked.
“Annie Fremont ma’am.”
“Miss Fremont. A way station is a special type of base or outpost. Along with resupplying troops outside the wall, they serve as storage facilities for goods coming to and from the mines. The largest one is the Green Valley Waystation.”
“Oooh Oooh!” Jared waved his hand around frantically. “Do you keep criminals there?”
“Yes, excellent deduction young man!” Dogra said. “Green Valley is an important stop so naturally we stop there with criminals on their way to and from working in the mines.”
“How do you keep them from escaping?” Another boy behind Jared asked.
“By using these!” Dogra exclaimed, pulling out a rifle from the bag behind him. Smith and the teacher slapped their foreheads in exasperation while the kids practically vibrated in excitement.
“HOLY COW! Is that a real rifle?”
“It’s so big!”
“How fast can it shoot?”
“Can I touch it?!”
“NO Jared.”
“Yes, I know, never checked, and your teacher said no.” Dogra held out the gun so the kids could see it but high enough they couldn’t touch. “Now this baby is called Ol’Henry and only really special officers get one.”
“Is it really yours?” Annie asked. Smith tried, and failed, to hide her snickering.
“Technically no” Dogra admitted, “But! I have used on on a super important mission before.”
Annie nodded and turned to Smith, “Do you have one?” Wow kid that hurts.
Smith shook her head. “No, Police officers have no need for rifles. Only raiders use them.”
“Aren’t you both Legion?” Jared asked.
“Legionnaires,” Smith corrected, “and yes, but see here?” She pointed to her shoulderpads. “The color of our shoulderpads indicates which sub-group in the Legion we are. Mine are white which means I work on the Police force. Dogra’s are red which mean he goes outside the wall.”
“Are there other colors?” Jared asked.
“A few. White with green accents are security guards, you’ve probably seen them at the hospital or at church. Red with orange work mostly on the wall and red and white work at the government buildings.”
“Cool!”
“Did you always want to be a police officer?” Annie asked.
Smith shrugged, “In a way. Everyone who graduates the Academy starts in Red and if you serve long enough you get promoted to white and get to spend more time at home in the city. Almost everyone ends up switching once they get old enough.”
“Yeah,” Dogra chimed in, slapping a hand on Smith’s shoulder. “White just means Smith here’s old!”
“I still outrank you guppy. You wanna do laps when we get back?”
Dogra laughed and backed off while the kids got to laugh at an adult.